[Pride 2021] Why Phantom of the Paradise Became My Queer Quarantine Comfort

I had seen and enjoyed Brian De Palma’s 1974 Phantom of the Paradise many years ago for the first time when a friend recommended it to me, but late into the pandemic year of 2020 I found myself craving a re-watch for some reason. Fate kindly smiled upon me, and it aired on TV so I could DVR it. I watched it with my parents, thinking that my mom would potentially enjoy it as a Phantom of the Opera fan, but I’m not sure it worked for her like it did for me.

Suddenly, this film I remembered fondly in passing became something that resonated wildly with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I watched it again a little while later for comfort, and the soundtrack in particular became my go-to if I was upset about something and feeling overwhelmed. Anxiety attack? Blast a couple songs and sing to them loudly, and I was back in control of myself.

I felt okay again.

I’m not sure I can put a finger on what exactly it is that clicked so thoroughly this time around that I wound up swapping out one of my top 4 films on Letterboxd for this one. I’m not even really a huge musical fan generally, though the one exception seems to be horror musicals. My last piece was about Shock Treatment (1981), and Rocky Horror Picture Show is of course a favorite, but I do also really adore Stage Fright (2014). So, apparently, something about the mix of horror and good music does it for me.

In part, I think it’s because there’s just so much of it that seems to punch through to my soul and grab it every time I think about Phantom of the Paradise. It doesn’t even have a happy ending by any means…something you’d figure you’d want in a comfort film during such draining and crushing times.

The music certainly is a huge component, which is thanks to the incredible (and apparently marathon) work of Paul Williams. Not only does he capture different eras of music effortlessly in the songs, from the 50s to the 70s, but he even goes beyond that to project into the 80s with a glam rock-type sound for Beef and The Undead. More than that, these songs do so much legwork while being excellent in their own right.

“Faust” tells us exactly what this story is about, and it lays the groundwork for what’s coming. Just before that, “Goodbye, Eddie, Goodbye” does as well, albeit less directly. Even though it’s about the title character Eddie committing suicide to cause his music sales to skyrocket, lead to his sister having the money for a life-saving operation…the base of ‘killing oneself to save someone you love’ is absolutely applicable.

“Through the sacrifice you made
We can’t believe the price you paid
For love”

That’s precisely Winslow at the end of the film, committing suicide ultimately in order to save Phoenix.

Back to “Faust” though, we then see this beautiful, melancholy song about selling one’s soul for love turned into a Beach Boys styled bop called “Upholstery”, that is literally about a car, and losing a fight. 

From:

“I was not myself last night
Couldn’t set things right
With apologies or flowers
Out of place like a cryin’ clown
Who could only frown
And the play went on for hours”

To:

“I was not myself last night
Lost a fight, my woody barely runnin’
By a dude I should’ve beat
And on the street a blow like that is stunnin’”

The song is both great, and understandably infuriating on Winslow’s (the late, lovely William Finley) part for warping his heartfelt vision into something so trite. The beauty of it is how you can faintly feel the presence of “Faust,” even with it ultimately coming off as a completely different song thanks to the vibe and lyrics. Williams’ ability to both make a song that’s genuinely fun to listen to, while still portraying how the world of capitalism-focused music warps something raw and artistic into a flaky and shallow shadow of its former self, is nothing short of incredible.

As much as the soundtrack slaps, however, I think even more so than that the comfort I find is the inherent queerness I’ve come to find in the film. There’s a sort of surface layer to that in the campiness aspect, and Beef (Gerrit Graham) is also surface-level easily seen as a stereotyped diva who talks like people in the 70s (and even now) may point to as what a gay man sounds like. But I see a lot more to it than that, especially when it comes to Winslow.

Winslow, let’s be honest, makes a lot of mistakes on his road to selling his soul to the devil, which in itself is a pretty big one. His perceived naivete is, at first, the indication of why he repeatedly lets Swan get away with shit, but keeps coming back. Swan steals his beloved cantata from him, without even so much as paying for it or giving Winslow any sort of credit. He also has him beaten and framed for having drugs on him by the police (sad how relevant that still is, but uncomfortable to say the least that the cops are Black, and about the only Black characters in the film). But, even after all that, Winslow once again falls back into Swan’s urging to “trust me!” and does so. Despite becoming the Phantom and wanting revenge, he winds up doing more work for Swan, and in the process signs his soul away.

So, why?

Because he’s naive? And yet, when Winslow is heading up to Death Records after flying in (due to not getting any response back after his music was stolen), what song do we hear?

“Never thought I’d get to meet the devil
Never thought I’d meet him face to face
Heard he always worked alone
That he seldom wrote or used the phone
So I walked right up to meet him at his place”

In an interview for the Shout! Factory edition of the film, Paul Williams notes this as being almost the opposite of what Winslow is thinking at this moment, but I wonder if it’s less that so much as he does have some sense that something here is off. That some part of him recognizes that this is probably not just a misunderstanding, and that his idol has in fact stolen his music, even if he continues to seem innocently unaware of this.

I think the reason he ignores that little voice, and continues to fall right back into Swan’s bullshit repeatedly, is not just being sweetly gullible. Rather, it’s because he’s enamored with Swan. I think Winslow Leach is a disaster bisexual that has had a huge thing for Swan, this perceived musical virtuoso, and that adoration coaxes him to ignore all the red flags waving wildly over and over again. I certainly know how that goes, and can empathize with that. Really, to me, it’s the only thing that explains it.

The dynamic, in fact, reminds me a lot of Herbert West and Dan Cain from Re-Animator (1985). Short mad genius who has a grand vision that he will stop at nothing to achieve, vs. the tall sweet innocent who gets star-struck and dragged along the way. The main difference between the two is that Herbert cares about Dan. Herbert has returned affection for him, he never means for his actions to cause Dan any trauma or harm, and he wants Dan around outside of his usefulness (even if Herbert might not admit that openly).

Inversely, Swan could care less about Winslow. Swan is the homophobic gay meme, honestly. Gender ultimately doesn’t matter to him. He uses up people regardless of their gender and Winslow ends up a victim of Swan’s parasitic nature. Swan is intentionally, maliciously manipulative and abusive. Whereas, Herbert is merely self-obsessed to the point he will happily twist Dan’s arm to get him involved, but part of it is because he does genuinely want him around to be part of his great vision. Swan would rather keep Winslow dead, or in the shadows, than let him get even an ounce of time in the Paradise.

Swan himself is clearly an homage to The Picture of Dorian Gray, to the point that in the original script, Swan’s first name was Dorian. Not only is Dorian Gray another tale influenced by the original Faust story, but Dorian Gray is often depicted and seen as being a queer man. They both seem less concerned about gender, so much as satiating their desires above all else, whatever those desires may be.

Winslow does, of course, have someone else that he has feelings for as well. Although the amount of time he and Phoenix (Jessica Harper, my beloved) actually spend together is far less than we see him and Swan together, in fact they really only speak once before everything goes wrong, there is so much within that moment that is established as far healthier. Winslow immediately recognizes Phoenix’s talent, something that clearly she’s not used to. All she wants is to sing and be heard, and Winslow does. Not only that, but he helps her to understand the piece more, something she appreciates dearly, as all she wants is to perform it. In this way, she is also recognizing Winslow’s talent in return, she adores his music. That’s also all he has ever wanted, someone who listens and hears the thing he loves so deeply.

In fact in “Faust” right in the beginning of the film, he says so:

“I swore I’d sell my soul for one love
Who would sing my song
And fill this emptiness inside me”

That’s Phoenix, and selling his soul exactly what Winslow does for her. Specifically, after his own voice is damaged beyond repair, and he’s left unable to sing for himself. This is undoubtedly devastating for him, someone who’s whole life and dream is to perform his cantata, but as De Palma says in his interview for the Shout! Factory release, Phoenix becomes his voice. She’s the one person who he trusts with something so deeply personal to him, his life’s work.

In one scene where she’s finally on stage, singing “Old Souls”, Winslow has the spotlight trained on her. You can see his one big eye peering out from the mask as he watches her, glistening with tears. For that brief moment, they both get what they want.

But, of course, Swan can’t allow for that to go any further. Another note on Swan is that he manipulates Phoenix’s belief that she was able to finally bathe in that spotlight because of him to seduce her, rather than tell her that it was Winslow who wanted her on stage. However, it really seems to stem from wanting to torture Winslow more, not so much his own interest in her. Even as they make love, his attention is solely on Winslow watching, relishing in his anguish.

I told you, homophobic gay.

Another interesting note is that, in the original script, there’s a scene in which Swan tells his right hand man Philbin the reason he doesn’t want Phoenix to actually perform the cantata. He chooses Beef to perform it instead because of a ‘there can only be one’ mentality when it comes to a gorgeous performer. He’s threatened by Phoenix’s talent and beauty, he doesn’t want to risk her upstaging him. It’s only after seeing her perform that he accepts letting her have the limelight, but only with him in control of it, and to eventually kill her on live television for the ratings he knows now will pour in after seeing the crowd eat up Beef’s death.

Beef, of course, is undoubtedly queer. But I see a lot more layers to it than simply his speech, and his glamorous looks. I will absolutely admit to bias by saying that he’s my favorite character, but he’s just so magnetizing and interesting, thanks in huge part to Gerrit Graham’s performance. I also think Beef is bi, though I would also understand anyone who posits he’s gay, but Swan specifically gives Beef full creative control of his songs. He tells him to do whatever he wants with it, ultimately, and that means Beef himself went with:

“I’m the evil that you created
Getting horny and damn frustrated
Bored stiff and I want me a woman now”

He also smacks the butt of one of the lady dancers on stage during the performance. Now, both things could ultimately be just an act put on, a mask of straightness to remain popular during a time that was clearly unkind to queer people. Especially given that Swan slings ‘f*g’ at Winslow for wearing women’s clothing to sneak in and see him. I simply personally feel like it would’ve been just as easy for him to avoid those things if he really wanted to, given the control he had in the process.

I do think that Beef has a complicated relationship when it comes to women, though, and femininity. During rehearsals, Beef grows irritated with the music he’s been given, as it’s clearly been written for someone with a higher vocal range. Specifically, it was written for Phoenix to sing. He complains that it was written for a woman, and adds that he doesn’t “do drag.” Swan then remarks that he “can do it better than any bitch,” which really seems to stir Beef up. “You don’t know how right you are!”

I personally think Beef is trans, and has a complicated relationship more with gender than anything else. He seems to easily bare and embrace some aspects that would be considered feminine, and yet has a contentious relationship with other aspects. Be it that he doesn’t want to be perceived as a woman while still getting to wear feminine things, or that he’s more gender non-conforming but doesn’t have the terminology and awareness of that concept to know he can be more than just one stereotyped and binary gender, I can’t say nor would I want to definitively as a cis woman myself. But, in discussing him with my trans best friend (an artist who does some excellent horror work), I’ve grown to feel strongly that there’s something going on there that he, unfortunately, never really got the chance to hash out.

I also would note Beef’s stage performance as another indicator of this. Beef’s motif for his performance is that of someone who has been cobbled together with body parts from the audience and brought to life, a la Frankenstein, but with a gorgeously glittery and slutty look. Much like Rocky from Rocky Horror Picture Show, he is given life and is immediately DTF.

Frankenstein is yet another classic that is constantly looked at from the queer perspective, and rightly so. Alice Collins recently wrote an exceptional article that I highly recommend called Fear of “The Other” and Trans Symbolism in ‘Frankenstein’ that covers this far better than I ever could.

“In some ways Frankenstein is the ultimate story of otherization which unfortunately is a concept that queer people are not strangers to. It shows a narrative that someone like me can use to relate some of my own personal experiences to those who may not have experienced similar. In many ways it’s a story about learning who you are and how to be a person when you have changed so significantly from who you were before.” 

We don’t know who exactly Beef was before, but there’s an impression given that perhaps it isn’t who we see on stage thrusting his guitar outward suggestively from his waist, or the wry drama queen painting the Scorpio sign onto his cheek. He’s made some sort of transition before now, perhaps not a complete one yet, and isn’t quite comfortable where he’s at.

It’s possibly also worth pointing out that Beef’s character stems from the character Carlotta from the original The Phantom of the Opera. She is the main obstacle in the way of Christine being able to be the lead singer, as the Phantom desires, due to being the original lead singer for the opera house. She’s also characterized as being a spoiled diva, which certainly translated to Beef. While the intention probably had less intention to do with a trans narrative than just having a more feminine gay-sounding guy (possibly) only for humor’s sake, the fact is that it’s very easy to translate it that way instead.

It’s tragic to me that Beef does try to do as Winslow demands and refuse to sing, but thanks to Swan (or some other music producer before him starting his addiction) using drugs to keep his talent needing him, he refrains from actually doing so. There’s an extended version of the scene where Beef’s in the shower, just before Winslow comes and threatens him. He looks teary almost, and upset. He can feel that there’s something wrong with the Paradise beneath the brightly colored surface, but unfortunately, much like Winslow, it’s too late for him to escape it with his life.

There’s a banger of a song that plays during the end credit montage called “The Hell Of It” that I always considered to either be a) about Swan because to me it suits him even if Paul Williams is performing it, or b) Swan’s feelings towards Winslow. However, I discovered watching the Shout! Factory interview with Williams that it was meant for a scene they didn’t get to film. Beef was supposed to get a snowy funeral in a graveyard, and everyone would have been holding hands around it gleefully singing this song. Which, if you ask me, is far harsher than he deserves.

However, I would like to point to my favorite verse of the song:

“If I could live my life half as worthlessly as you
I’m convinced that I’d wind up burning too”

Now, this could be just a surface reference to the fact he was electrocuted, which is sort of like burning. Or, indicating he’s going to hell based on the other factors mentioned in the song, such as his drug addiction (again, exceedingly harsh and unfair). However, we all, unfortunately, know how often going to hell is associated with being queer. And as established, Swan is a homophobic gay. So… food for thought, if nothing else.

Obviously, given how long this piece is, there are perhaps endless things that I could talk about in regards to this film. This is all without having touched on what it’s saying about the music industry’s cannibalistic nature of chewing up musicians’ creativity until they’re all used up and spitting them back out. Or, women in music being at the mercy of predatory managers and producers, and having to weigh their bodily freedom against being able to create music. Not to mention the fact this film all but predicted the rise of “reality” TV, where consumers would no longer be able to discern the real truth of the world from entertainment and formulated false narratives. The capitalizing of death and suffering for views and money. There truly is so much embedded in the film that remains true, if not even more accurate, today.

But, ultimately, I think the reason I keep returning back to it over and over is a sense of queer comfort. Intentional or not, I see myself and my friends in these extravagant and unique characters that are each so distinctively memorable. And, even though the ending isn’t the happiest, there’s a sense of taking down the controlling, manipulative bastards that are running the show and draining good people dry. It may come at a cost, but there will be survivors. There may be people blithely dancing around the remains, waving off the great loss that occurred before their eyes, but there will be someone who remembers and cares.

“To work it out, I let them in
All the good guys and the bad guys that I’ve been
All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow
Come together in me now”

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